Destination India. Katy Colins

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СКАЧАТЬ him a fancy dinner but completely forgot all about it,’ I half moaned.

      Kelli looked up from her paper-strewn desk. ‘My mate Sticky Shaun works at TGI Fridays. I could try and bag you a table there? Nah, scrap that – he got his name for a reason.’

      Ben grimaced and turned to face me. ‘Why don’t you have a change of plan and cook for them at yours?’

      I laughed. ‘I want to treat him, not kill him. Do you not remember how bad I was at cooking when we were in Thailand?’

      Memories of being in the spicy, steamy kitchen in Koh Lanta flooded my mind. I blushed slightly thinking back to how close we’d been then, how I was convinced something would have happened between us by now other than swapping secret-Santa gifts and sharing business ideas in a friendly yet professional manner.

      Ben smiled at the memory. ‘Yeah, maybe stick with the restaurant idea.’

      I went back to my laptop, wanting to focus on work instead of what could have been between us when Ben called out. ‘Wait, didn’t you go to some networking event or something at Verde, that new Italian place? You could call whoever organised it and see if they could fit you in.’

      ‘Genius idea! Thanks.’ I flipped through the stack of business cards on my desk; note to self, must get round to organising these one day. I thought back to that utterly boring evening where my restless mind had wandered away from death by PowerPoint to the fresh flowers and walnut fittings in the restaurant. I’d spent the rest of the dull meeting wondering whether we should redecorate the shop in similar hues.

      I found the business card for Luigi, the restaurant manager, a no-nonsense Italian man with gelled-back hair and heavy musky aftershave who’d been very keen on sharing his advice on the best places to visit in Rome when I’d told him about our Italian tours. Five minutes later and I’d bagged us a table for three at nine p.m. tonight. Bingo. Maybe I could pull this back after all.

       CHAPTER 2

       Disillusion (n.) A freeing or a being freed from illusion

      ‘It’s very fancy, isn’t it?’ my mum exclaimed, picking up the creamy porcelain salt and pepper pots from the starched linen tablecloth. ‘But, weren’t we meant to be at that French place? Viv always goes on about it since her son Adam took her when he visited from London that one time. I swear I’ve heard more about the bloody crème brûlée they serve than I have about Viv’s sciatic nerves, and trust me, she never shuts up about them.’

      ‘It did sound pretty good though. The pudding, not Viv’s backache,’ my dad chimed in before clocking my face.

      ‘I tried to get us in there, but it was fully booked,’ I apologised, ignoring my mum pursing her lips that Adam had managed to get his mum in. ‘This place is meant to be really good though. It’s the number one Italian in Manchester, or something like that.’

      ‘Hmmm,’ my mum said. ‘It’s a little on the poky side.’

      ‘Or you could say cosy?’ I tried putting a positive spin on the large faux-marble pillar that we were tucked away behind. Luigi had come true on offering us a table; he just hadn’t specified that we would be sardined behind the Roman coliseum next to the toilets. The comforting garlic and rosemary smell of the busy restaurant was sliced by regular wafts of strong bleach every time the door opened.

      ‘Well I think it’s great and makes a change from watching the evening news as I tuck into your mum’s famous corned-beef hash.’ My dad chuckled. After ordering from a harassed-looking waitress, who’d obviously forgotten about us judging by the look on her shiny red face, we tucked into the free, salty breadsticks.

      ‘So, you’ve come straight from work, Georgia?’ My mum nodded at what I was wearing: my creased work skirt, two-day-old blouse that now had both an ink stain and a coffee stain on the cuff and my Kelli-inspired, emo make-up.

      ‘Yeah, sorry. I’d planned to go home first but I –’

      ‘You were running late,’ she butted in, and then sighed. ‘Well it’s so nice to finally get to have a proper catch-up with you. Although, I have to say, you are looking a little peaky, love.’

      ‘I, erm, tried out a new make-up look today; don’t think I’ll be doing it again,’ I said, brushing crumbs from my lap. ‘So anyway, happy birthday, Dad.’ I raised my glass of Chianti and pecked him on the cheek, smelling his familiar scent of clean linen and tomato plants. ‘Your present’s in the post,’ I lied. Well, half lied. As soon as I got home I’d order something super-duper online to be delivered as soon as possible.

      ‘Seeing you is the only gift I need.’ He ruffled my hair. ‘Now tell us everything. It’s been ages since we’ve seen you, pet; how’s it all going? You’re not working too hard I hope?’

      ‘Well, you know the first year of any new business is always a little tough, but we’re fighting our corner of the travel market and even making a small profit.’ I winked, feeling a warm glow inside of me. This was why I worked my bloody socks off: to get results.

      ‘That’s excellent news.’ My dad grinned and chinked his glass to mine.

      ‘What about outside of work? Any men on the scene we should know about? I always thought you and Ben would make such a lovely couple. With your intelligence and his dark brown eyes the children would be like genius supermodels.’

      ‘Mum!’ I hurriedly wiped the dribble of crimson wine from my chin.

      ‘What?’ She innocently shrugged. ‘Don’t be so busy working that you forget to have fun, Georgia.’

      ‘I do have fun.’ I half pouted, ignoring her as well as trying not to gag at the smell trailing an overweight man who’d just squeezed past us coming out of the toilets. ‘I’m having fun right now.’

      ‘Coming out tonight for your dad’s birthday doesn’t count. It’s not like you’re going to meet the man of your dreams in here,’ my mum tutted.

      ‘I have to say I agree, pet.’ My dad jerked his head to the male bogs before laughing.

      ‘I haven’t got time for all that at the moment.’ I wafted my hands around, wishing the waitress would hurry up with our mains and take the attention away from what a failure I was in every area other than my career. No way did I want my feelings about Ben bubbling to the surface, not when I’d tried so hard over the last few months to keep them neatly locked in a box marked do not open.

      ‘Hmm, well we’re worried about you, that’s all,’ my mum said, gently placing a hand on mine. ‘When you came back from your travels you were so fired up about this business idea and it is great it’s working so well. Really it is.’ She sighed. ‘But, Georgia, you need to be careful it isn’t taking up all of your time.’

      I pulled my hand away, took a big gulp of wine, and smiled at her. ‘I told you I’m fine.’

      My mum kept her eye on me and raised an eyebrow before slowly nodding. ‘So, how’s Marie? And little Cole? It’s been ages since we’ve seen him; I bet he’s growing up so fast.’

      ‘They’re fine …’ I said, thinking about my best friend and her СКАЧАТЬ